Double Masks
by levinserra
Summary: Before the book - Erik's thoughts and the first introduction to the Angel of Music
1. Double Masks of Despair and Madness

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Double Masks of Despair and Madness

His fingers danced across the keys, the minor mode with diminished accents he was playing in betraying his mood. With hands whiter even than the bone ivory of the keys he expressed himself as not many can, endlessly and hopelessly composing, waiting for the one voice worthy of himself and his music. 

Slowly he stopped, even his mania exhausted in the face of the terrible depression settling over his body. The only sound present in the subterranean cavern he called home was his heart-rending, loss-filled sighs. Even more slowly, he got up and removed himself from the organ that until lately had been the sole comfort in his despair. Until the girl. That girl, with the voice of an angel and the body of a goddess. She had plagued his thoughts, both waking and dreaming. 

She was naught but a chorus girl but had the potential for so much more. If only he could… but no. She would not allow tutelage by some man from the depths who could not show his face. It was hopeless; in his wildest dreams she could never love him, never trust him. A tear trickled down his cheek, irritating his scarred flesh. 

Then he grew angry, in an extreme turnaround characteristic of his personality. He screamed soundlessly, slamming a strong arm into the damp brick wall. He must find a way to get to her! To touch her but once, her perfect skin and porcelain features would assuage his madness, as mere glances could not. He rushed to the passage that led to the beauty's dressing room. He trembled however, in his madness, that he could not triggered the switch to reveal the opening. 

He collapsed, sobbing, slamming his head back onto the wall. The impact relieved him of his consciousness momentarily. Awakening to a pounding head and still aching heart, he stayed motionless in the position he had fallen, the only sign of life his shuddering chest. 


	2. The Drama of the Angel

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The Drama of the Angel

After some time, his sobs exhausted and his mania calmed for now, he pulled himself up off the floor. With calmer, steadier hands he poured himself a glass of wine and drained it. He poured himself another. Then, seemingly against his will, he drifted towards the passage he had attempted to enter earlier, the second glass of wine in his hand. He now managed to open the door and began to wander down the dank hall, filling it with his sighs. 

He proceeded at no great speed, with no great purpose but always towards her chambers. When finally he got to them he stood, fingering the flute of his wineglass. He froze, transfixed, at the sound of the voice of his obsession moving into his room. After a moment of merely listening to the beauty in her voice, he rushed to the window he had installed, looking into the room. To his utter dismay, his love was crying, calling out in tones too low for him to hear. He strained, longing to hear what so pained his idol. 

"O father." He waited, body taut in expectation of her next words... "O father, why did you have to leave me? It was so long ago, yet seems so near now, on the anniversary of your death. And what of the Angel you promised me? The Angel of Music, to guard me on my path? I feel so lost... O father!" His heart had begun to race at the sound of her musically beautiful voice and now was beating beyond control. Perhaps this was the chance, the hope that had so long eluded him. 

"I am your Angel of Music." He whispered, yet projected in a rich baritone. 

"What?" she exclaimed, startled by the sudden appearance of a voice behind her mirror. 

"I am your Angel of Music," he repeated, "sent by your father. I can teach you things you never dreamed possible. Together, we will be greater than anyone will believe." She stood, facing the mirror, with eyes shining. 

"You've finally come! I am yours, always. Teach me!" 

"Sing with me, mon petite ange. Sing with me." He closed his eyes, smiled and began to sing.


End file.
